The spacious, well-ventilated command tent felt oppressively heavy, like the air itself had turned to lead. Even breathing was difficult.
None of the Sweet Commanders dared make a sound.
Charlotte Linlin rested one broad, greasy hand on the pink robes draped over her knees, her thick fingers tapping idly at the folds in the fabric.
The bright red polish on her nails gleamed so vividly that each finger looked as though it bore a gemstone ring.
She shifted her colossal weight in the creaking chair, the sound like some great sea beast stirring beneath the waves, and fixed her gaze on Katakuri.
Facing the crushing pressure that felt like a mountain about to collapse, Katakuri spoke steadily:
"Last night's attackers on Cracker's right-wing fleet were without question the Northern Sea Kraken Krakken, the Sea Beasts, and units of fish-men and merfolk."
Linlin's heavily shadowed eyes narrowed, a glint of scorn flickering in them.
"So what if they were?" she said coolly.
"Mother," Katakuri continued, "the ocean depths are their domain. They never fight prolonged battles—once they score a hit, they retreat immediately. Even if it had been me or Smoothie in Cracker's place, we'd likely have been just as helpless."
At that, Smoothie, the tall half-longleg, rose from her seat.
She strode forward—each step as long as a stilt-walker's—and knelt beside Katakuri in the center of the tent, her cascading white hair falling about her shoulders.
Katakuri glanced sideways at her, then turned back toward their mother.
"Mother, Katakuri is right," Smoothie said softly, head bowed. "I believe Cracker did everything in his power to protect our family and fleet. The enemy was simply too cunning."
For the first time, Linlin's expression wavered slightly. She pressed her painted lips together and sank into thought.
Katakuri pressed the point while her temper cooled:
"They attacked only Cracker's fleet, leaving mine and Smoothie's untouched. Perhaps their true goal was to sow discord among us."
"Exactly, Mother," Smoothie chimed in quickly, grasping Katakuri's intent. "They want you to turn against Cracker—to cast him aside. That's their real, insidious purpose."
Linlin's brow furrowed deeper. One thick finger rubbed along her worm-like nose as she pondered their words.
After a pause, she asked in a low rumble:
"Then what do you propose I do with Cracker?"
"Let him atone through merit," Katakuri advised. "It's undeniable that he failed to repel the enemy, but even punishment can wait until after our war with Davy Jones is won."
Smoothie nodded in agreement.
"Katakuri's right. With the decisive battle so near, punishing a Commander now would only cause unnecessary chaos—precisely what Davy Jones hopes for."
They all understood: if they could delay judgment until after the war, a single great victory might soften their mother's heart.
And if Cracker distinguished himself in battle, his achievements could very well erase his crime entirely.
Listening to his siblings plead for him in perfect harmony, Cracker finally understood their intention.
Gratitude welled up in his chest, and a flicker of hope returned as he looked toward his mother.
But no matter how eloquently Katakuri and Smoothie argued, the final word was always hers—and her thoughts were as unpredictable as the sea itself.
A long silence hung in the tent once more.
At last, Linlin stirred, her enormous frame shifting as she reached a decision.
"Hmph."
A heavy snort burst from her nostrils. She stared coldly at the trembling Cracker for a few moments, then waved her hand impatiently.
"Fine. We'll do it your way. We'll settle accounts after the war."
Katakuri's tense shoulders relaxed slightly. He turned toward his younger brother.
"Cracker—thank Mother."
"Thank you, Mother! Thank you, Mother!"
Cracker shuffled forward on his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground before her.
"I swear I'll avenge my brothers and sisters! I'll slaughter every last one of Davy Jones's wretches—leave none alive!"
"Heh… You'd better remember those words," Linlin replied, her gaze still icy.
Cracker thumped his chest, about to make another vow—when a shrill, grating sound split the air.
"Blep-blep-blep-blep!"
A Den-Den Mushi was ringing—fast and urgent.
Katakuri, Smoothie, and Cracker all froze, eyes turning toward the small creature beside Linlin's chair as it opened its eyes and screeched loudly.
Linlin's frown deepened. Beneath the sweep of her false lashes, her eyes locked on the clamorous snail, a dark premonition already forming.
During wartime, to prevent trivial calls from clogging communications, she kept a personal line—reachable by only a handful of people.
Half of those very few were already in the tent.
That could mean only one thing: whoever was calling, it had to be serious.
She lifted the receiver calmly, her enormous fingers dwarfing it.
"Mama!"
It was Perospero's voice—panicked and strained.
"We're under ambush! We can't make landfall—requesting immediate reinforcements!"
The line was on loudspeaker; Katakuri, Smoothie, and Cracker all heard their eldest brother's desperate plea. Their faces blanched.
Perospero commanded the logistics and supply fleet, which had fallen far behind due to their heavy cargo and slow ships.
The main Big Mom Fleet had surged ahead, and none of them—preoccupied with last night's attacks—had spared a thought for the trailing supply ships.
Daifuku and Oven were busy establishing the camp on the island; the rear was left vulnerable.
Now, the news that Perospero's fleet had been ambushed shocked everyone.
Could the same disaster that befell Cracker's ships be happening again?
But it seemed this time was worse.
Through the Den-Den Mushi came the distant roar of cannon fire, constant and chaotic.
Perospero's voice grew more frantic.
"Mama! Can you hear me? We're under heavy ambush—we need backup!"
"Where are you?" Linlin demanded. "What happened?"
Hearing his mother's voice, Perospero let out a shaky breath and spoke quickly:
"We were nearing the island—could already see its outline—when suddenly a dense fog rolled in! Visibility vanished! Then thunder, lightning—waves churning, wind howling—and somehow the fleet was pushed away from the island! We had to take in the sails!"
Linlin shot a glance at Katakuri, Smoothie, and Cracker.
The three of them understood instantly and bolted from the tent to ready their fleets.
"And then?" Linlin pressed.
"It's like we fell into the Devil's Triangle! We lost our bearings—even the Log Pose went haywire! The magnetic fields here are being tampered with!"
Perospero's breathing quickened; he sounded as though he were running across the deck—or fleeing something.
"Then ships started vanishing—'Sea Beasts' surfaced all around us and attacked! We've lost six ships already! We only managed to sink one of theirs! They can dive underwater—their ships too! We're completely on the defensive!"
"Coated ships?" Linlin asked, startled.
"No! Not coated—some ability! Their ships glow with a ghostly green light and dive beneath the waves like living creatures!"
At that, Linlin finally rose from her seat with a thunderous motion.
"Hold out for now! Katakuri's fleet is already moving to assist you!"
"Yes, Mama!"
Perospero's tone suddenly changed, rising into terror.
"What the hell… what is that? Is that—a ship?! But why is it… eating our ships?!"
"Perospero! What are you talking about?!"
Linlin's massive body shot upward; a fluffy, cotton-like cloud swept beneath her feet and lifted her into the air.
"Zeus! Fly over the sea—full speed ahead!"
The cloud yawned lazily and replied,
"Got it, Mama!"
Linlin clutched the Den-Den Mushi in one hand, shouting into it.
"Perospero!"
But her son's scream pierced the air:
"MAMA! It's the Ghostly Terror Ghost! It's coming right at us—!"
Then came a piercing, shrill screeeech—so loud that Linlin had to yank the receiver away from her ear.
When she looked again, the Den-Den Mushi's eyes had closed.
The line was dead.